Tangled Webs
by Syl
Summary: What really happened in NW 93. Or so I've been told!


Summary: What really happened. (Well, it could've happened this way!):)

Note: In response to Nightwing #93. (Spoilers, so read at your own risk!) Oh, and hasn't been beta'd, so be nice.

Disclaimer: All the characters are owned by DC Comics and Time/Warner; this is an original story that does not intend to infringe on their copyright.

Feedback is welcome!

Copyright May 2004

* * *

Tangled Webs

By Syl Francis

"Get away from me!" Nightwing snarled. "Just leave me alone!" He shoved the female vigilante Tarantula away from him and moved towards the roof's edge.

"Querido!" Tarantula yelled, running toward him. "Don't! Stop!" She caught up to him and pulled him by the arm. Nightwing resisted weakly, still too spent, too injured to fight off the rookie vigilante. "You are hurt." She waved at the Bludhaven street several stories down. "You would never make it in your condition. Let me help you."

Shaking his head, Nightwing mustered what little strength he had left. He yanked her hand from his arm and threw her from him. "Don't. Touch! Me." He gasped and stood doubled over, holding his ribs. To Tarantula it appeared as if the only thing keeping him on his feet was the roof's waist-high ledge. "Don't ever touch me again...or so help me, I'll--"

"You'll what!?" Tarantula asked. "Kill me?" She exploded in derisive laughter. "Nightwing, kill? The Dark Knight in shining armor kill?" She shook her head and gave him an affectionate smile. She spoke gently. "If you wouldn't kill Blockbuster, a monster who was destroying everyone and everything you loved, how could you kill me?"

The truth behind her words cut into him much like the stabbing pain of his broken ribs that were cutting into his chest. He had just stood aside and let her kill Blockbuster. He knew what she had been planning to do. He could've stopped her. Should've stopped her. Had stopped her--in his mind.

But the truth wasn't quite so clean. It was a festering wound eating away at his heart. His very soul.

"My fault," he whispered. "My fault..." Nightwing blinked back the tears. He didn't deserve tears for his mortal sin. No pity. No absolution. Only punishment. He needed to be punished. "I'm sorry, Bruce. I failed you. I failed--"

"No, mi Amor." Tarantula murmured in his ear. Nightwing closed his eyes, too tired to fight her off. "Everything is going to be all right. You'll see. I will take care of everything." She leaned in to kiss him on the cheek, but he turned away.

Tarantula sighed but allowed him that much dignity. "The first thing we have to do, though, is get you to bed." He tensed at her words, but she added quickly, "Alone, Querido...you have my word. I have a little housecleaning to do." Nightwing knew she meant disposing of Blockbuster's body. "Now, why don't you let me help you off this roof and get you somewhere warm and safe?" Too exhausted to argue further, Nightwing nodded and let her lead him away.

* * *

Catalina watched him sleep. She reflected on how he'd balked at each step to get him ready for bed. He'd refused to let her bandage his ribs, threatened to leave if she even looked like she was going to watch him undress, and then fought to stay awake until he was sure that she was really gone.

She smiled. She'd waited on the roof to make sure he'd fallen asleep before she climbed back in through the window to check on him. He appeared to be sleeping, if not peacefully, at least with minimum tossing and turning.

He murmured something in his sleep. Catalina took a step in closer, listening. It had sounded like "Bruce..." She shook her head. Still with the guilty conscience, she tsked. This "Bruce" had obviously done a job on her "Querido," raising him to believe that killing for any reason was wrong. Catalina shook her head in disgust. Killing may not always be right, she thought, but sometimes it was necessary. And killing Blockbuster had been necessary.

Her "Amor" suddenly threw the covers off his chest. Taken by surprise, she gasped at his perfection. Admittedly, his costume didn't leave much to the imagination, nevertheless she had not been prepared for such flawlessness. Even with the bloody bandages wound tightly around his ribcage, he looked like the Greek ideal of beauty.

"Down girl," she whispered. "You gave your word." Deciding that now was the time to leave, she shut the bedroom door and headed towards the tiny apartment's front door. Where Catalina was going, Tarantula would not be needed.

She hurried down the five flights of stairs to the building lobby. She passed the sleeping night clerk without stirring him from his two a.m. catnap. Once out on the street, Catalina climbed into her beat-up Honda and drove off into the night.

Soon, she passed the city limits on US 61, heading towards Gotham City. Forty-five minutes later, she whipped by the sign proclaiming, "Welcome to Gotham City!"

"Welcome to Gotham City," she muttered. "See the sights--like the magnificent WayneCorp twin towers! Oh, and let's not forget Arkham Asylum. Everybody eventually ends up in Arkham. Meet interesting people. Get killed by one of them." She shook her head. "No wonder Nightwing moved to Bludhaven. If your father was Batman and your playground Gotham City at night--Hell, if your playmates had been monsters like Joker and Two-Face--I guess any normal, sane boy would've left, too." She paused. "Or, at least, killed himself."

Catalina spotted her exit and a few minutes later was driving slowly through a wealthy neighborhood. Spotting the correct address, she pulled into the driveway. To her surprise, the drive curled around the house and came to a stop at a detached garage behind it. The garage door was opened, as if waiting for her.

Quickly, she parked the Honda, pulled the garage door close and crossed towards the back entrance of the house. The door was unlocked. So, she thought, they are expecting me. Shrugging, she walked inside.

The room was pitch black. Catalina rolled her eyes. Really, they were carrying this 'secrecy' thing too far. After all, who would ever suspect? She stopped in her tracks. This was Gotham City. Batman was the city's protector. Okay...maybe the secrecy bit wasn't such a bad idea after all. Shrugging, she made her way through the darkened rooms until she reached a hall closet that was located on the left side.

Opening the closet door, she stepped through the winter coats that were hanging there and opened the hidden door. Stepping through, she was immediately met by her brother. "A hidden room, just like you said."

"You're late," he snapped. "What happened? What took you so long?"

"Chill, bro," Catalina said casually. "I'm here now." She looked around the room. "Where is he?"

"Waiting for you, where do you think he is?" He pointed at yet another door that was partially hidden in the shadows. "Through there. And Catalina...don't say anything stupid that'll get you killed."

"Y'know, just because you're like some real hotshot lawyer and the DA doesn't mean that you're the only one the family who has brains. You got to go college 'cause nuestro madre y padre didn't believe that a girl needed college, just a husband. All those books you've read don't make you smarter than me."

"I never said--" he protested.

"You didn't have to, brother," she said. "Your attitude says it for you. But just remember this--even with all your education, who does he--" Her eyes pointed at the door. "--want to talk to?" Catalina gave her brother a knowing smirk and then pointed at herself. "Me, that's who. Me, because I can get the job done. Remember that, brother."

With that, Catalina stepped through the second door.

* * *

Reaching the bottom of the steep staircase, Catalina discovered yet another door. Shaking her head, she sighed in exasperation. How many hidden doors could one house have, she wondered. Shrugging, she turned the knob and walked in.

Instantly, she knew she had finally reached the end of the line.

"Well done, my dear, Catalina," the deep voice sounded as if its owner were struggling for every breath he or she took. "Very well done." Catalina waited while her host took several deep, gulping breaths from his oxygen tank. "And that last bit on the roof--what exactly was it? A rape?" He laughed. "That was a nice touch."

"Believe me," she said sultrily, "the pleasure was all mine." She walked up to the massive bed and looked down the huge form of Roland Desmond, AKA Blockbuster, and still very much alive. "It all worked exactly as you predicted. By the way, that was some Academy Award-winning performance you put on in that dingy hallway."

Blockbuster feigned a bow at the accolades. "No more brilliant than the phony bullets you fired at me."

"Yes, an acquaintance of mine works with pyrotechnics on a movie set. He showed me how to fill hollow bullets with fake blood for special effects. I rewarded him with a real bullet between the eyes for the information."

"I knew you were the right person for the job the minute I first laid eyes on you," Blockbuster said.

"Well...I had to kill him. He knew that I knew about special effects firearms. I couldn't have Nightwing somehow find out about it, could I?"

"No, indeed," Blockbuster agreed. "So, what are our young vigilante's plans? What exactly is 'life after murder' for our gallant hero?"

Catalina shrugged. "I don't know yet. Hell, I don't think he knows yet. I left him sound asleep back in my apartment."

"Ah...that's it. Win his confidence over with your feminine wiles."

Catalina gave him a wicked grin. "I can try those, too." Blockbuster guffawed at her innuendo, which led to an extended coughing fit.

Catalina waited for it to pass before tossing him the coups de grace. "By the way, I took this after he'd fallen asleep." She threw Nightwing's costume at Blockbuster. "I didn't think it a good idea to run the risk of Nightwing deciding one day, just out of the blue, to run an analysis on the red stains and discover that instead of blood, his costume is covered in a sticky gel that's laced with food coloring."

Her words almost sent him into yet another fit, but he somehow managed to restrain himself. At last, he spoke at length, fighting for each breath. "You are to stay with him. Make him believe that you are in love with him--" He stopped and gave her a piercing look. "I can see that won't be too hard for you, Catalina." His expression hardened. "But remember who you're working for. Because my dear, tarantulas that try to weave their little webs of deceit on me will only have their necks crushed and twisted in the end."

Tarantula swallowed and nodded her understanding. "You don't have anything to worry about with me, Boss. I gave you my word."

Blockbuster continued to glare at her. Finally, he nodded, indicating that the interview was over. Catalina hesitated, not quite knowing how to put what she wanted to say next. However, Blockbuster beat her to the punch.

"Your payment for your services will be posted in your bank account by the time the banks in Switzerland open this morning. One million dollars, Catalina, for not killing me. Think about it. When the time comes and I order you to kill Nightwing--in front of Batman so that his death will be doubly sweet--your payment will be one thousand times this amount."

Catalina's eyes shone at the discussion of her future riches. Nodding, she walked out of the secret room. Blockbuster observed her through his closed circuit tv system. What he saw made his eyes narrow. "Yes, Catalina," he murmured, "convincing Nightwing that you are in love with him will not be difficult, since it is already true." Gasping for air, he quickly took several deep gulps of oxygen from the machine.

"Convincing me that you will actually kill him when the times comes, however...well, we will just have to wait and see, won't we?"

* * *

"I will go with you, Querido," Catalina said while gently caressing his face. She just wanted to lie there with him and watch the sun as it peeked in through her bedroom window. However, she knew that it was time for them to go.

Dick's ribs were better now, and he was taking solid foods. More importantly, she no longer hurt him when she mounted him and made love to him in her own way. The same special way that she had taken him that first time on the roof.

Since that day when he was so weak and had protested so much, she had met with no further resistance. She told herself desperately that it was because he needed her as much as she wanted him. But the morning sun cast the light of truth on that lie.

Catalina knew that Dick had stopped resisting because he saw their lovemaking as a form of penance. Submitting to her was his idea of purgatory.

Catalina quickly wiped the tears that formed. No matter. He was just a temporary toy for her to play with, she told herself. Soon, when Blockbuster gave the order, she would have to kill him--the ultimate penance. Perhaps then her Querido would finally find peace.

He slept soundly in her arms and at one point even murmured something in his sleep that she didn't catch. The covers slipped, and as always her desire grew at the mere sight of him. Quietly, she moved out from under him and was about to climb on top when she stopped.

"Bruce..." he murmured. "My fault...failed...my fault..."

Feeling the tears begin to flow, Catalina climbed out of bed and walked to the window. There she stood, and watched as the dawn broke in the east.

The End


End file.
